Thank G for Z
by DavidHayes1956
Summary: Don't get a job as an insurance salesman in Metropolis! This is only 850 words long. How can you loose?


"Thank G for Z"

I would have lost my job if it hadn't been for a typo! The boss had been threatening that, should there be one more major claim that month by someone I had sold insurance to, that I would be on the unemployment line. I thought I had it bad when I sold home owner policies in Florida in the summer of 2004 when 4 huge hurricanes hit, but I had to be out of my mind to think that moving to Metropolis would change my luck.

The courts had struck down the "Superman Clause." You could not deny a claim by someone because there property was destroyed by Superman while fighting a threat to the civilized world. "Civilized World?" Right! There were freaks, mutants, deranged scientists and aliens crawling out of every corner to do battle with the Man of Steel ... and the Superman Clause was no longer there to protect the insurance industry. Next thing you know, they'll be telling us we can't deny medical benefits to people who are sick! What is this world coming to?

I thought I had it made when I saw how Mr. Kent kept his apartment. He made Martha Steward seem like a slob. Everything was neat, clean and looked as good as new. Little did I know that most of his stuff WAS new ... and for good reason! He was a friend of Superman and a magnet to everyone with an axe to grind with the Big S. I sold Mr. Kent the most expensive policy my company offers. It covered EVERYTHING with NO deductible. The premium was pricy as all get out and if I hadn't been busy calculating my commission, I might have stopped to wonder why a man as savvy as Mr. Kent appeared to be would be so eager to commit to a policy that was so binding.

Week after week, Mr. Kent's apartment got destroyed. One week it was the Parasite, the next it was Mr. PickleWhateverFella. My job was hanging by a thread. More wide-screen Plasma TV's were being delivered to Mr. Kent's apartment than to any major appliance store in Metropolis. One time, there was a minor earthquake that broke a few of Mr. Kent's possessions. I went happily to his place to deny his claim based on our iron clad "Act of God" clause. I handed Mr. Kent a copy of his policy with the clause highlighted. He handed it back smiling. I had made a typo and that clause was invalid so I had to pay up again! What was worse – every policy I had sold to the tenants in my limited territory had been duplicated from the same master copy and contained the same typo! So much for the theory that it's not worth the money to hire someone to proof-read the policies!

So my boss was threatening my job. No one in the industry would ever hire me again if he fired me. I was keeping my fingers crossed. This was the last day of the month. Only a few more hours and I would be safe for the time being. Then I heard the news on the radio. A city block had been destroyed in a fight between Superman and some escapee from a high tech Kryptonian prison. Here I thought Krypton was destroyed. I guess it couldn't get destroyed because I haven't written a policy on it yet! Here it was, the news I dreaded. The criminal wanted revenge on Superman and chose to get it by seeking out and killing Clark Kent. But Mr. Kent was miraculously saved yet again ... but 334 Clinton Street and the buildings surrounding it had been demolished. My entire territory was gone in a single hour!

I went to make my final damage inspection. There was Mr. Kent and 500 of my other clients greedily awaiting a check from me. All the properties estimates had been jacked up to allow the highest possible justifiable insurance premium. Now all the properties were a total loss. I pulled out my list of replacement values for the 501 policies and prepared to write checks for the rest of the evening. I wasn't going to be fired; I was going to be executed!

Mr. Kent started telling me the details of the battle. I only half listened. I didn't care. I was dead meat. Then Mr. Kent said something that made my ears perk up. He said the name of the Kryptonian criminal. I put away my checkbook and smiled as I handed Mr. Kent the same highlighted policy that he had handed me back less that a week before. My smile got even bigger as Mr. Kent's expression darkened. Thank God for the typo I made when I edited the master policy! Thank God that I had typed "Zod" instead of God! All claims that day were denied due to them resulting from an "Act of Zod." That is how I became the regional manager of LexCorp Insurance!


End file.
